


A Feeling All Familiar

by torakowalski



Series: AU Prompts [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic, bored people at weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2333267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski/pseuds/torakowalski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Bride or groom?” Phil Coulson asks.</p>
<p>“Pretty sure I’m neither,” Clint says, smirking</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Feeling All Familiar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdwegian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdwegian/gifts).



> For nerdwegian who picked "miserable people meeting at a wedding" from the AU prompt meme.

“… but my wife and I like to think that we’re not losing a daughter, we’re gaining a son.”

The effort of not rolling his eyes is threatening to give Clint a migraine. It’s not so much all the cliches, it’s the fact that the bride’s father is delivering them as though he was the first person to ever think of them, and the audience (are they called an audience? No, wait the guests) are lapping it up.

“I will pay you to stab me with that bread roll,” Clint mutters.

Next to him, Kate kicks him hard under the table and hisses, “Don’t tempt me.”

“You’re bored too,” he says out of the corner of his mouth. She is, he knows all her tells, and she’s been obsessively straightening all her silverware into neat little lines since the father of the bride started droning on.

“No, I’m not,” she says, a charming smile etched permanently on her face while she talks through gritted teeth. “This is beautiful and… Oh thank god, I think he’s nearly finished.”

“Does that mean we can eat?” Clint asks, just a little desperately. He hasn’t been to a lot of weddings but he knows there’s supposed to be food before he has to listen to speeches. Apparently this bride’s father is so damn important that he can only take a couple hours out of his day for his daughter’s wedding so they shifted the order around.

Personally, Clint would have told him to go jump, but then he’s not one of Kate’s society friends.

Kate sighs the kind of sigh that means she wishes they were a million miles apart. She’s the one who made him come with her to this shindig though, so he grins at her with too many teeth, letting his eyes all crinkle up at the corners unattractively. 

She shakes her head at him. “God, yes, go and eat. Go away.”

He blows her a kiss and pushes his chair back at the same time. It scrapes along the nice, wood-finished floor, which it probably isn’t supposed to do, then stops abruptly, with a nasty sort of bump when it collides hard with something.

“Oh jeez, sorry,” Clint says, looking over his shoulder and kind of hopping around, since there isn’t enough space to actually stand up yet, but he reallyshould get out and apologise, since he just rammed his chair into someone’s back.

The guy he hit - middle-aged, nice suit, darkish hair slipping back a little from his hairline - doesn’t look like he’s going to start yelling at Clint for being clumsy and out of place. He just smiles and shrugs. 

“No harm done,” he says, voice soft. He holds out his hand slightly, almost but not quite pointing. “After you.”

Wow, manners. Clint doesn’t really know how to work with those. “Thanks,” is all he says before finally getting free and striding off in the direction the guy pointed. He kind of hopes that it’s where the food is and that it looks like he knows where he’s going.

He probably doesn’t pull off the second bit - he trips over someone’s purse, someone else’s purse, and a toddler, but it does turn out to be where the food is.

And holy fuck it’s a lot of food. There are like, fifty kinds of meat and a fucking mountain of potatoes, all shiny and golden, and vegetables Clint doesn’t even recognise. He grabs a plate before anyone notices that he’s started to drool.

The line to the service station is pretty long; looks like he wasn’t the only guest who was starving away. Clint technically could slide in and steal some food and he’s pretty certain he wouldn’t get caught, but that seems kind of a shitty thing to do, so he gets in line like he’s supposed to.

And finds himself directly behind the guy who he slammed a chair into a minute ago.

“Hey, how did you get here ahead of me?” Clint blurts out, before it occurs to him that he should keep a low profile. _Don’t remind people that you exist when you’ve already pissed them off, Barton._

The guy turns just enough that he can see Clint without turning his back on the line and purses his lips for a long second. Clint’s just starting to really regret the whole conversation thing, when his lips twitch and he says, “Secret super powers,” in all seriousness, then taps the side of his nose.

Clint laughs without meaning to. It just kind of bursts out of him, way too loud, and a couple of people turn to look.

The guy smiles though, looking surprised but pleased, and Clint doesn’t feel embarrassed. “Phil Coulson,” he says, holding out his hand.

Clint gives his name and his hand in return and then can’t really think of anything to say next. He considers throwing his plate up into the air and catching it again, just to show off, but that’d probably be bad form.

“Bride or groom?” Phil Coulson asks.

“Pretty sure I’m neither,” Clint says, smirking

Phil stares at him for a second then does what Clint did: bursts out laughing then looks startled at himself. 

“Sorry,” Clint says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bride. Kind of. I’ve never met her but she’s friends with the girl who dragged me here today.”

“Ah, I see.” Phil nods. “I’ve been to a few of those. I normally find them deathly dull.”  
Clint laughs again. “Oh my god, yes,” he agrees, then wonders if that was too fervent. “What about you? I mean, are you, um, are you bride or groom? Not are you bored.”

“Groom,” Phil says. “His father is an old army friend. And yes, I was very bored.”  
There’s something about the way he says _was_ that makes Clint lean in a little closer, makes him ask, “Was?” 

Phil does that pursed-lip smile thing again. “That’s what I said,” he agrees.

Okay, this is bad. Clint is flirting; Phil is flirting. Does Clint want to be flirting? He has no idea. He just kind of does it on autopilot then decides if he’s interested after. 

Someone behind them clears their throat kind of pointedly and Clint straightens up fast, biting back a grin when Phil does the same thing with just a little more dignity. 

There’s a good three-person sized space between Phil and the next guy in line now and they hurry to catch up. Phil faces front this time, angled ever so slightly toward Clint but not nearly as much as before. His fingers are tapping against his pant leg.

He looks uncomfortable, basically, like he just tried his luck at flirting with a guy and that guy didn’t respond. Clint knows how that is; he’s been there way more often than he’s comfortable admitting.

“So, hey,” he says, leaning forward and almost-but-not-quite hooking his chin over Phil’s shoulder. “You got any suggestions for how we could make it more interesting?”

Phil huffs out a tiny laugh, like Clint’s terrible, terrible attempt at being suggestive is making him happy, but his voice is deadpan when he says, “I hear there’s a disco, later.”

“Sounds great,” Clint lies. “Or, we could eat our dinner together, then I could buy you a drink at the bar.”

“It’s a free bar,” Phil says.

“Then I’ll buy you two drinks,” Clint promises.

Phil turns around then and smiles. It’s small and warm and it makes Clint feel hopeful. “It’s a date,” he says.

It’s not, not really, but Clint finds himself hoping that it will lead to one.


End file.
